I'm Carlos Ruvio.

Sister Rosa told me that I was born on August 27, 1988, in the sunny summer of the Iberian Peninsula.

I had almost forgotten all the memories of before I came to the orphanage, except for the sound of the rain and the sound of blood flowing in the vague night.

It is said that I came to this dilapidated orphanage because my parents died in a car accident, and there are many children like me, and Mother Rosa took great care of us, telling us the Bible, teaching us to pray, but where she could not see, darkness was creeping up.

We are abandoned children, and it is precisely because of abandonment that we have to fight for our own interests.

Whether it's food, candy, friendship, and — the right to adopt, the dark side of it pushes me to become sensible quickly.

Half a year after coming to the orphanage, a couple came to visit the orphanage, and Sister Rosa said that they might adopt me and that I would have a new home.

The word home was foreign to me. I asked Sister Rosa why they chose me, and she said because I was so cute.

The nun stroked my hair and told me to be good tomorrow.

The next day, the couple arrived as promised, and I stood in the line with some pain in my hands, so I tried to stand up straight, and then smiled, and did my best to be the good child of the nun.

But my clothes were dirty, my hair was messy, and I had scratches on my face.

This morning my breakfast was snatched away, and I had the privilege of getting into a fight with a larger group of kids, and as a surprise I was beaten up.

Eventually, the couple took a well-dressed child with smooth hair.

Older than me.

I was not sad, but I still shed tears, and Sister Rosa comforted me and told me that people should have expectations, and she would be there for me.

Then I thought, it's so easy to disappear from home.

The other children in the courtyard laughed at me, saying that no one wanted a beautiful boy, and that the beautiful boy had become a wild child again.

I don't understand, why do they want to target me, even though we are all children that no one wants?

No one told me either, and gradually I stopped wanting to talk or play with them, and when I grew up, fighting became a part of my daily life, and no one offered to adopt me anymore.

The orphanage often receives donations from people from all walks of life, and the children next to me will pretend to be well-behaved and ask for gifts.

I don't like the feeling of being given to me like this, and it's not mine after all.

The children in the courtyard had finished distributing the gifts and clothes, but I was the only one.

Sister Rosa touched my head again and gave me the remaining doll with a broken leg.

I just remember that this doll was beautiful, with the same blond hair and blue eyes as me, and she couldn't cry or laugh, but she would be with me quietly.

It's great, I don't like to talk either, it's a lot of trouble.

I put the doll at the head of the bed, watched her every day, and brushed her hair, her blonde hair as warm as the sun across my fingers.

Unfortunately, on my birthday, someone took the doll and threw it into the river while I was praying with the nun.

I had just tied her in a braid that morning, and it was so beautiful, and when she came back, she was gone.

I sat on the bed and was silent for a while, and when I touched my face, I found that there were no tears.

Then I thought, it's so easy to lose companionship.

I told the nun that from now on, I would never want to celebrate my birthday again, and the nun touched my head and agreed, but persuaded people to have expectations.

The next day the nun told us the story of Noah's Ark in the classroom, saying that the springs of the earth were cracked, the windows of heaven were opened, and the rain fell on the earth for forty days and nights, and the flood destroyed the land, the species became extinct, and all the shelters became sand in the mud, but Noah's Ark became the hope of salvation. The nun smiled and said that there will always be light in the midst of difficulties, and God is protecting them.

I didn't laugh and thought it would be nice if it rained like this in Barcelona.

There is no ark, all are drowned in water like dolls.

After that, Mother Rosa made room for me to live alone, and it was very quiet, and there was a small playground near the woods, with a running track and football goal.

But I don't have football.

The boys in the orphanage are dreaming of football, and many famous stars have no glamorous backgrounds, and they rely on their hard work to win their fortunes. Of course, I don't know any of them.

Suddenly, a soccer school was selecting students, and I signed up.

The coach asked us to shoot and it was my first time playing real football, black and white, because I tried too hard, I failed, and the coach said I didn't have any talent.

All the courage I had managed to muster was gone, like a deflated rotten football.

One night, Barcelona had a big parade, which passers-by said was the celebration after the famous Barcelona club won the Champions League trophy.

I ran out to watch the parade.

There were fireworks and flowers, men and women screaming wildly, and that was the first time I really felt the charm of football, with the players standing on the floats and all the people on the ground looking up to them.

The players threw soccer balls and jerseys into the crowd as souvenirs.

I got a soccer ball on the outermost periphery.

Oh, it's a football.

I don't know why, but I was so happy that I almost screamed.

I followed the parade and finally arrived at a stadium where a bigger celebration took place, and at the end of the pitch I shouted over the wide green turf that I was going to be a player, a successful player.

Some well-dressed teenagers heard it, they laughed at me, and when they saw the signed soccer ball in my arms, they were angry.

I was beaten badly, but luckily they didn't steal the football.

When I got back to the orphanage, I started practicing, I had no training, I just practiced shooting and dribbling, from near to far, from simple to complex, everything was on my own. There was no one to practice with me, only the birds chirping in the woods and the sun rising and setting every day with me.

I also learned how to shoot at fixed points and pick up a can to target.

At first, I always missed, but slowly, I found a strange feeling that when I saw a target, my intuition would tell me what kind of force to use and what angle to use.

The coach at the soccer school said I didn't have much talent, but I suddenly felt like I could still succeed.

Excited, I ran out of the orphanage to Las Ramblas and shouted at the ocean in front of Columbus Square.

On the way back, I saw a doll with blonde hair in a small shop, dressed in a delicate dress, sitting quietly in the window.

A voice in my heart told me that if I got her, I would be able to find companionship again.

But I don't have any money, she's too expensive.

My soccer ball also started to break down because of years of training, and some kind people repaired it for me.

But I had to buy a new soccer ball, and the fat guy at the street restaurant gave me a job washing dishes, and I could get paid for my labor.

I would go to Las Ramblas every day to visit the doll sitting in the window, just like she was with me every day.

The days went on like this, until a chance landed.

Enrollment for La Masia's youth camp has started again, and I was spotted by a scout while kicking cans in the streets, and he took me to the farm, which is said to have a magnificent history.

Mother Rosa personally sent me for a trial, and the children in the hospital were envious.

When I entered the farm, the nun touched my head again and told me that people should have expectations, saying that I had waited.

I was a little apprehensive, but this time, I smiled at her.

yes, I've waited for it.

I'll have a brand new soccer ball, I'll have enough money to buy that doll.

The results of the medical examination came back quickly, except that my body was too thin due to malnutrition, all other indicators were quite good, and the scout said that I was the best in the batch.

I'm full of fighting spirit and desperate to make a difference in this Academy.

Every day, I would get up very early, the first to exercise on the playground, in the afternoon, I would receive theoretical guidance, and from the class I also learned that running with sandbags tied to my calves does not exercise endurance, I felt sour by my previous ignorance, and I was also in awe of the vast knowledge of the football world.

The Academy will sign a contract with the kids and I will be paid a little bit a week and the Academy will keep us going to school to make sure we are culturally qualified. I love math, but I don't really like Spanish literature.

It took me a long time to save enough money, and just as I was happily telling the shopkeeper to buy the doll, the shopkeeper told me apologetically that he had sold the doll, but that he had other dolls here.

I was a little disappointed and left the avenue.

I don't think I really like dolls, I just like the feeling of being around.

If it's gone, it's gone, it's not mine after all, it's not mine, so be it.

The doll incident didn't put me in a good mood, I had a conflict with my teammates in the academy match, and the bad habits I developed in the orphanage made me fight them with a fist.

The Academy quickly cancelled my development program and everything was interrupted.

The head coach called me into the office and he told me that I had a congenital condition – low-risk depression, and he said that I was like a volcano that would blow up at some point and that it was dangerous.

I don't know much about it, but I also know it's not good.

The manager asked me if I would like to be treated and I said yes.

Because that's the only way I'll be able to get back on the pitch.

The days of treating low-risk depression were a bit boring, most of the time, they would ask me questions and I had to answer them truthfully, which made me feel lonely and embarrassed, as if all the secrets were gone.

They looked at me like a guinea pig, full of disregard and fanaticism.

I was back on the pitch after eight months of treatment and the director said the club had invested heavily in me and they wanted to see a return.

I didn't have a choice, football went from being a dream to a tool that allowed me to climb up, in the academy no one was my partner, the sunrise in the morning and the sunset in the evening were the things that stayed with me the longest.

After graduating from junior high school, I chose to dedicate my future to professional football.

It's a difficult and uncharted path, they all say I'm a genius in a decade, low-risk depression has made me more open-minded and creative than ordinary people, but these are just their predictions, and no one knows what will happen when I actually go up.

The pressure of training is very high, and there are players around one after another who have begun to indulge in the bright lights, men and women, rippling devil-colored liquid injected into the body, and they shouted unconsciously in the smoke.

They took me to enjoy it, I refused, I like the girls who will be quietly with me, not the monsters, who are aiming for the money in my pocket.

At the age of 16, I moved to Barça's Under-19 squad and played for the club in the Spanish National Youth League.

My instinct and speed made me the key man on the field, and I became famous while lifting the trophy.

Several top clubs have offered me olive branches, and the contracts are exciting.

At the same time, my scout became famous, he started to spread the word about his vision, and the team that treated me for low-risk depression was not to be outdone, and soon everyone knew that the player who won the Youth League trophy was sick.

I'm sick.

It was one of the few □□ in my life, and I was thrown into the abyss before I could enjoy much light.

I started dreaming, many, many dreams, of the rain and the red blood, of the blonde doll with a broken leg, and the smug smile of a boy who had been adopted by a couple who had left me.

I dreamed that my leg was kicked off in a match and I couldn't get up again.

The temperature in the Iberian Peninsula was comfortable, but I felt so cold, and living in a dormitory with only one person seemed to have crawled out of hell and pulled me down.

I refused to be treated, refused to talk to doctors and professors, and the media and newspapers were full of criticism and ridicule against me.

This time there was no Mother Rosa to tell me that there would be expectations in life, and I would not have had hopes.

When I had expectations for home, no one gave it to me; When I had expectations for companionship, they lost the doll; When I had expectations for my career, no one supported me anymore.

My first career contract was still on the table in the dorm room, but it didn't make much sense anymore.

I thought, maybe I should have left with my parents on that rainy day, so that at least someone could accompany me.

Before closing my eyes, my last impression was frozen in the afterglow of the grand sunset, and my ears felt like a death knell was ringing.

The author has something to say: Today my mother left me, and suddenly I thought of the newspaper with sadness, my lonely and desperate little heart.

Tomorrow, let's have a comparative portrayal of this life, how about it?